Les Beeserables
by IWillAlwaysThinkBee
Summary: Nineteen years. That's how long Moose Valblood has spent in jail just for stealing a scrap of honey. Upon his release, he is saved by an act of kindness and thrust into a community on the verge of an uprising- can he handle it? Will Barry Benson's revolutionaries succeed? (Les Miserables and Bee Movie crossover)
1. Chapter 1

Tough times had hit France's working class hard. The revolution had succeeded, the king overthrown, but the new system of ruling was not much of an improvement. Their society was still classist and difficult for all.

It had hit one Moose Valblood so badly that he had resorted to the ways of the criminal. He had stole a pot of honey in an attempt to keep his family going, but alas, he was caught and sent off to be slave to the law for five years. He could hardly accept his fate and attempted to run, adding twelve more to his sentence.

Which brings us up to date with the story so far of a brave young mosquito in post-revolutionary Paris.

A fine morning- or at least, it would have been one had he not been soaking wet and so tired he could barely stand- it was when Officer Montgomery approached him.

"Prisoner 24601!" he barked, and Valblood obediently trotted over. "You are done here and are to be released on parole," Montgomery continued. "These papers brand you as a dangerous mosquito. A former convict. This is how you will pay. Nonetheless, you are free to go. But never forget, 24601..."

"I AM NOT A NUMBER, DUDE! MY NAME IS MOOSE VALBLOOD!"

"And mine is Layton Montgomery," the officer snarled. "Out of my sight, 24601."

Valblood wandered the countryside for many days, nobody providing him with food or shelter or even work, all because he had been branded a former convict. He looked all over for some form of respite from this hell but there was none.

Who'd have thought, he mused, that freedom would be so difficult.

He was giving up hope when he stumbled across a beautiful church. He stood in the shelter for a moment when suddenly, a figure appeared. He squinted. "Whoa, what happened to you, boy? You come inside for some recharging! I'm Bishop Lou Lo Duca." He led the perplexed Valblood inside and gave him food and a warm, dry bed.

"All right, rookie! You rest up real nice! You look like a tough boy who could really do some work for the country! Not gonna throw this one away!" With that, the bishop retreated out of the room.

Valblood was awoken before dawn by chirping birds and was suddenly overcome with an urge. He took a sack and filled it with as many things as would fit then flew for the door. However, his theft was not all fun and the sound of pumping blood in his ears. He was apprehended after just a fraction of a mile and brought back.

"What is the meaning of this?" Bishop Lou Lo Duca demanded.

"This fellow says you gave him the contents of this sack. This rotten, lying thief!" one of the authorities claimed.

Valblood looked down in shame, sure he was going to end up back where he came from after just a short burst of sweet freedom. But to his shock, the bishop covered for him.

"Of course I gave him those things...but dear Valblood, you forgot these!" The bishop handed over two beautiful silver candlesticks then turned to those who had caught him. "You may leave now," he told them, and so they did.

"Valblood, you have to use the things I am giving you to build an honest and good life," the bishop said. "On your way. And watch out. It is a dangerous world out there for a lost soul such as yourself."

Valblood thanked him and left, worrying frantically about how he could possibly get back on his feet. "No," he said quietly on the quiet path. "I WILL rebuild my life. This is the start of a whole new world. I am going to...like, change," he vowed to the wind. "I'm going to own a business! And the business shall be called..." He felt tears of joy run down his face. "Mooseblood!"


	2. Chapter 2

And so Mooseblood indeed became a thing.

Valblood was elected mayor of a small town and managed to get his beloved business off the ground. He had long since abandoned his papers entirely and Montgomery was hot on his trail, having the odd conversation with him yet not realising it was the very same Valblood he was trying to catch. Still, Mooseblood was a shining success, and he had many devoted employees.

One of these employees was sweet and innocent Bee Larry King. He was a quiet and hardworking young bee, because he was very motivated.

His motivation was, of course, his darling child, Cosadam. He could not afford to keep Cosadam by himself, you see, so instead he stayed with two generous inkeepers, Mr and Mrs Benson, and he sent them money for his son's upkeep. However, on this particular day, he had a little bit of extra motivation, and that motivation was a letter.

"Dear Bee Larry King," the Bensons had wrote to him. "Your child is sick and needs a doctor. We require more money immediately. Please send along with a jar of honey." Larry had decided to just send his whole wage for the week, taking only a little for himself that was necessary to survive. His son was the one he loved more than anything.

So he worked in the factory amongst many other bees, under the watchful eye of Foreman Bumble. It was no secret that the foreman fancied Bee Larry King a great deal and made it clear at every opportunity. He was always trying to seduce him, but Bee Larry King stayed focused on his work, dedicated and loyal like a dog.

One of his fellow workers that morning saw the piece of paper hanging out of his pocket and snatched it up quickly when the Foreman left the room. "And what is this?" she sneered patronisingly, gesturing to everyone to listen to her. She then began to read while Bee Larry King's face twisted in horror. "Dear Bee Larry King, your child is sick and needs a doctor, we require more money immediately, please send along with a jar of honey?!"

This evoked a gasp from the audience that had collected. "Hey, whoa, excuse me, is that anything to do with you?" Bee Larry King demanded. "Where I'm from we wouldn't dream of doing that! Give it back!" He grabbed it back, glaring. "Not like you can talk, you have six fucking boyfriends as well as your husband, who asked for your judgement, Margarita?"

The worker- Margarita- jumped at him and they slapped at each other viciously until Valblood was provoked to come down to see what was all the fuss. "Bitchfight!" he called, shaking his said. "Yo, lady, Bee Larry King, both of you- calm the fuck down, duuudes!"

The Foreman returned as Valblood flew off again. "Who started it?" he demanded. And just like that, dozens of fingers were pointed at Bee Larry King.

"No fair! It was that bitch, Margarita!" he called as he was thrown out.

Now on the street with no way to support Cosadam, he sobbed and sobbed. What would become of his precious little boy?

That night on the streets, he knew what he had to do. It was awful. But it was all he could do to save his baby. He sold all his hair and his teeth for all the money he could, and then ran into a larger person, who threw him against the wall several times. He was sure that was the end.

"Excuse me, what the everlovin' Jesus is even happenin'?" called a familiar voice. "That ain't no way to treat a bee!"

It was the factory owner. "Monsieur Mosquite!" Bee Larry King called, for that was the name he knew the man by.

Monsieur flew in quickly and grabbed the weakened Larry, taking him at once to a place where he could sleep in comfort. He laid Bee Larry King down on a soft bed, and from what he saw, he was sure the young bee was ill. He simply would not cease his wheezing.

"Are you all right?"

"I worked in your factory. You are the reason I'm unemployed! What is up with that?!" Bee Larry King complained bitterly.

"I'm sorry..." Monsieur Mosquite said quietly. "Is there any way I can make this up to you?"

Bee Larry King paused. "Yes, one way..." he croaked out. "Find my son. He lives with the innkeepers on Beesiness Street. He responds to Cosadam..." With that Bee Larry King spluttered loudly and ceased to breathe.

"You bet I'll find him, lil guy..." Valblood breathed.

"NOT SO FAST, PRISONER 24601!" called out a voice from the doorway. It was Montgomery! He charged in, sword in his hand. "Monsieur Mosquite was a good disguise for a while, but you cannot fool the mighty Montgomery for long! I am the law and the law will be respected!"

"Sorry, dude. Give me a few days, I need to find this guy's son, Cosadam. It's important!"

"I wasn't born yesterday! You are a corrupt and evil man!" Montgomery cried incredulously. "Once a thief, always a thief! I would know! I was born in the gutter, with awful criminals!"

In the shock of the moment, Valblood saw his opportunity. He flew away at once to find young, sweet Cosadam and sweep him off to safety.


	3. Chapter 3

Sweet little Cosadam watched as all the children of different species played together happily- harmoniously, even- on the street in front of me. He loved seeing them so happy, but he secretly felt a small pang of jealousy. He dearly wished to be able to join them, yet he was stuck on the wrong side of the fence, his sweeping as boring and monotonous as the rest of his days usually were.

"Cosadam!" came a shrill voice from behind him. He jumped around, grabbing at his broom uselessly and began to sweep vigorously as Janet B. Benson approached him. He was always told he was supposed to like her- this wonderful woman who, along with her husband, was letting him stay with them even when Bee Larry King couldn't take care of him, but he wasn't so sure. She treated him cruelly, as did Martin B. Benson.

And that was why he spent so much of his time hidden away in his own little world. He imagined a tiny Utopia, where he and the other children could play together blissfully, not having to worry about adults or illness or trouble. Just pure, reckless fun with no fear of consequences. He longed for it to be real so much that he would make a wish on a star every night, but he always woke up in the same stuffy corner of the attic. He had come to accept that his hopes and dreams were officially dead, but there was that small, childish part of his brain that screamed not to give up. It was foolish.

"Now, it's time to come inside!" Janet told him briskly, grabbing him by the arm (in a way so painful he dropped his mop) and dragging him inside. Ah, inside the inn. Adam resented the place and everything it stood for.

Simply put, the Benson Inn was a horrible scam. Cosadam had no clue when he first went to live with them, but his ignorance gradually waned away as he began to notice. And as he noticed, he asked questions, such as, "Why is everyone drunk here, Monsieur Benson?" or, "Why are you taking that man's money, Monsieur Benson? He's already paid for his drink!"

He had been younger then. Now he understood that his custodians were dirty, thieving conpeople. He was disgusted that he was in any way connected to them. Stealing simply was not acceptable in his moral code. Earning honey the right and honest way was important. And by the right and honest way, he of course meant in a nice cubicle from nine to five, Monday to Friday.

Still, he had to accept that in the state the economy was in, jobs were hard to find, so he supposed he had to reserve just the tiniest bit of sympathy for them, or at least he would have if they weren't so awful towards him.

They had their own son, as well. His name was Ken, and they favoured him, spoiled him. "Blood is thicker than sewage," they would say, which Adam would first point out is not true at all, then state that Ken was obviously adopted and therefore not their blood son. This was obvious because Ken was a human, but if he pointed that out, god forbid, he had to sleep in a kennel outside instead of in his comfortable pile of sacks.

"Madame," Cosadam started meekly, "what, pray tell, did you call me in for?"

"We need you to scrub up Monsieur Pierrejean's sick. He got a bit drunk and vomited all over the floor."

Cosadam sighed. "Yes, madame," he said helplessly. He had no choice but to do so.

Once the vomit had been transferred from the floor into a bucket, the bucket was taken from him and another immediately thrust at his chest.

"Cosadam, be a honey and go get some water from the well," Janet said curtly.

He, of course, obliged.

Meanwhile, Monsieur Benson was spoiling his Ken rotten.

"Who's a good boy?! My lad, that's it, that's it!" he almost shouted, his voice bustling with energy and laughter. "Oh, Ken, do that…uh, trick daddy showed you, huh?"

Ken nodded his head and approached the unconscious Monsieur Pierrejean. He snuck his hand into the man's back pocket and slowly but surely withdrew a small bottle of honey. He giggled gleefully and ran to his father. "Uhhh…here. I would have been faster but…the floorboards…" he said, his voice frightfully deep for a nine year old's.

The well was deep in the woods and it was very dark, and Cosadam was so little he found it utterly, mind-numbingly terrifying. Every silhouette of every tree seemed to be mocking him as it twisted into the shape of some evil witch in his mind. He ran as fast as he could to the well, wanting to get the whole experience over with.

He let the bucket down to collect some water, then lifted it out. He seized the handle and ran to get out of the clearing, only to stumble right into a big mosquito.

The mosquito peered closer. "D-don't freak out, kiddo," he said quietly. "But…are you Cosadam?"

"Y-yes…Monsieur."

"Well, paint me red and white and call me a candy cane!" the mosquito called happily. "I'm Moose Valblood, I'm here to help you! Uh…shall we return to your home?"

Wordlessly, Cosadam lead him to the inn, the flame of hope inside his heart burning a little stronger now there was a stranger beside him who could potentially get him out of this hell.

"Hey, uh…are you the…keepers of Cosadam?" Valblood stammered at Janet and Martin Benson.

"Yes, yes we are," Martin said, eyes shifting suspiciously. "Why?"

"I want to purchase him!"

"…We love him too dearly for that! It would take an awful lot of money for us to release our talon- release our…grasp on the boy!" Janet protested, as Martin picked the squirming child up in an awkward hug.

"Yeah…I see," Valblood mumbled. "Look, I have a whole kilogram of honey here! I'll give it to you for the boy!"

Martin dumped Cosadam on the floor. "Deal," he said without skipping a beat. "Take the little fucker. Ken, come say goodbye to Cosaaron!"

"Cosadam," Janet corrected him through her teeth.

Ken walked over. "Uh. Bye…_bee boy," _he said, choosing to revel in the glory of the moment instead of dwelling on pitiful curiosities such as why Cosadam was leaving.

"Right…uh, bye." Valblood left the huge block of honey and led the delighted and squealing Cosadam away by the hand.

He looked on fondly as Cosadam gazed in awe at a fancy doll in a shop and quickly purchased the doll as a gift to him. Cosadam was delighted, but had an important question.

"Will you be my new papa?"

Valblood nodded furiously, tears of adoration appearing in his eyes. "Of course, kiddo. Of course I will."


	4. Chapter 4

Montgomery stood on top of a beautiful, ornate building. He stared wistfully into the sky. Eight years he had searched high and low for Valblood, and then he had slipped through his fingers so quickly, and ever since that mistake, he had not encountered the wretched Mosquito. Not even once.

He spent his days searching high and low, hardened expression, tearing through towns like a hungry dog. He would relentlessly quiz and bribe every student, every businessman, every seamstress he came across, but it was a fruitless search. They were all either clueless or playing ignorant.

And so it was on this not-at-all-out-of-the-ordinary night that Montgomery looked down from the sky and let his face collide with his palms. He tried desperately not to let a single tear tarnish his face, but he could not stop the sobs. He was not prone to emotional outbursts at all, but when one has searched for a man nonstop for seventeen years, exceptions are to be made. He was just so _frustrated- _would he ever be able to find his Valblood again? Would he ever be able to lock up his precious 24601 behind bars and protect him from harm?

_No, _he thought, pushing away those thoughts in exchange for more…correct ones. _I want to find him and I want to lock him away, because he is a bad, bad mosquito who needs to be punished. _Montgomery quickly realised that one sounded just as bad as the first, and growled softly in anguish.

Clearing his head, he spoke softly- at first addressing nobody in particular, but then turning his pleas to a higher power. "I am going to find that wretched criminal, so help me God," he spat out fiercely. "Lord, be on my side- the side of JUSTICE! Help me bring to that mosquito, help him to receive his punishment!" His next few words were directed at himself. "I am on the right track. I will be rewarded in Heaven. I just cannot give up on this goddamn goose chase…" He sighed. "Order. Light. Grace. Justice. Oh, yes, truly. Those…those are the things I fight for," he said in a broken whisper.

It was then that he went back down to the street and found a respectable inn to spend the night in.

He woke up in the morning a new and hardened man. He gave the smallest tip he could reasonably get away with, gathered his things and set off with his game face on. He knew exactly where he was going now.

His own words from last night resounded in his head as he pushed past the common people. Some people called greetings to the inspector, but he took no notice. A man on a mission, he decided, cannot stop to smell the roses.

He stopped and sniffed the air. He was there- the place he had decided to search next. The slums of Saint Beechele.

Masses of people hurried past each other in their rags. They all looked starving, and for a second Montgomery feared he might have a slight emotional response- which he did not, in fact, have. He was far too focused on his prey- Moose Valblood. He set off to begin the hunt for the day.

A young bee ran past him, stopping only to stick his tongue out. Montgomery was not to know this, but it was young Beeroche, a beloved and cheery youngster. His younger siblings followed on quickly.

Beeroche weaved among the crowd nimbly. Nobody seemed to mind the tiny body getting in their way. He was a familiar sight to all. The people mumbled to themselves, raising their voices whenever a carriage of the rich trundled by. They spoke in a bitter and accusatory tone, trying to provoke some kind of shame from their upperclassmen, telling them of the hardships they faced every day, and trying to corner them into showing some mercy- some _humanity._

Of course, these demands fell on deaf ears. The rich wanted to ignore the suffering of the people in favour of an easy, guilt-free lifestyle. They did not want to feel like they were oppressing a class of people for their own petty luxuries.

Beeroche stood on a crate and grinned out at the masses. "Vive la France!" he cried with confidence, and the people cheered. They began to chant the words over and over.

Now, as mentioned earlier in this tale, there was a time when the people revolted- they killed the king in a rushed attempt to force a different system. But it wasn't just a straight-up victory, no- the Fates had conspired against the revolutionaries, and the efforts that they had worked so hard towards, and that had initially succeeded, were completely invalidated with the coronation of a new king- no better than the previous one.

Classism was rampant. Once you were born poor, you were destined to _bee _that way forevermore. Beeroche knew that well. He also knew that the majority of the working class was made up of bees. The species segregation was like an unspoken rule, it seemed.

Beeroche looked left and saw Vanessa ( a beautiful human girl who was in a state of mutual disownment with her wealthy family) and Barry Beejolras (a strapping young bee and the leader of a group of revolutionaries) standing on a cart, preaching to the flock of would-be revolutionaries (those who would be revolutionaries were it not for their difficult predicament: the very society they were born into forced them to work their fingers to the bone for long, gruelling shifts just to feed their children). He listened in. Vanessa was asking rhetorical questions to get the crowd worked up.

"Come on! We can't let them walk all over us forever! When- uh, oh no…When's it gonna end? No…when are _we _going to put an end to it? Something's gotta happen, right? And it'll happen a whole lot faster if we make it happen!" Her serious expression melted into a giggle. The crowd laughed too- with her, not at her. That was the good thing about Vanessa. She connected instantly with groups of people. They trusted her, and took the things she said on board with no trouble at all.

"Yeah, uh…haha, yes," Barry started through the roars of the crowd. "I mean, come on, right?" He laughed too, but it sounded slightly forced. "Where is the king anyway, am I right? Where is he while his people are going without food and education, all because his friends are takin' all the honey from us?" He looked at Vanessa skittishly.

She nodded back in approval. "There's only one guy- that's, uh, General Beemarque who ever bothers to even acknowledge us!" There was a cheer of approval for the General among the crowd.

"Yeah, but he's SICK!" Barry cried, flying up and spinning in the air for emphasis. "He's not gonna last the week, I'm tellin' ya," he commented over the mutters of fear and respect. When the whispers of the crowd hushed, he spoke in a loud, rousing tone. "I can feel ya getting…ANGRY, am I right?" he tried, with a cry of agreement coming immediately in response. "Can I feel ya getting…OUTRAGED? Well, how long until we DO something about it, eh? How long until we act?"

"Vive la France!" Beeroche cried again, prompting the crowd to do the same while Inspector Montgomery wandered through the outskirts, each step he took moving him further from the angry turmoil that was the square.


End file.
